


Waiting on Canada

by happy29



Series: Undercover Ray [1]
Category: due South
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy29/pseuds/happy29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray Kowalski's first day as Ray Vecchio...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting on Canada

I scan the room full of people and try to guess which one is the crazy Canadian that is supposed to be my partner. What does a crazy Canadian look like anyway? All of these people look like me and I’m sure as hell _not_ Canadian. People are whispering behind raised hands, tilting their heads to the side. Sets of eyes are busy flicking back and forth across the room, stopping occasionally to look directly at me and then, in less than a heartbeat, looking away as if they got caught doing something wrong. A few people rock backwards in their chairs, glance around, shrug their shoulders and start whispering again.

Wonder how many have figured out Vecchio’s not here? Wonder how many are trying to figure out who the hell I am? Wonder how many even care? I can't imagine Vecchio's first day as a mob boss going anything like this.

Before I know it, Welsh states the meeting is adjourned. A few shake my hand as they walk by. A few mutter _‘sucker’_ under their breath as they jab me in the shoulder with a closed fist. Welsh breaks through his crew, grabs hold of my elbow and escorts me to Vecchio’s desk. He motions with his hand to a tall stack of files and I gather quickly that I’ve officially begun work at the 2-7.

“Good luck,” he grumbles as he slaps me on the back and walks away, his shoulders squared, head held high. He shuts the door to his office with too much enthusiasm and the windows rattle in their aluminum casing.

I pull out the chair to Vecchio’s desk, sit down and just stare at the stack of files. Not interested in actually doing police work, I push them to the side and decide it’s too early to dig into that mountain of a mess. Out of curiosity, I pick up the telephone, hit redial and reach Canada. _Interesting._ Opening up the top file folder of many, I begin to read. These aren’t Vecchio’s open files like I assumed. No, these are the files of cases that he worked on with the Mounty, who was still MIA.

All seems normal until I flip open the file of Victoria Metcalf. There’s a whole lot that can be said for the large amounts of missing information. I flip the manila folder closed and let out a long sigh. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

“Suck it up, Buttercup,” I mutter into my doctored coffee. “You’re now Ray Vecchio. No turning back.”

Not a single person has offered me any real assistance and I wonder if it’s because I’m the _‘new guy’_ or if it’s because of the _‘old guy’_ I’m now pretending to be. My thought’s drift back to Vecchio’s last phone call. Canada.

Maybe Fraser has the answer.


End file.
